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Peregrine, I've become a skeleton of my former self. Is there any use in begging for tenderness? Hanging in suspense while a world marches on. Even an intercessor turns away from this hairless body. Peregrine, I've become a shadow of my former self. Withering in winter and as this sun sets I still have a fear that is tumbling and tumbling in my stomach. And as this disease devours my body this fear consumes my soul. Pray for us. Pray for us. Pray for us. From Letras Mania